The Princess Awakens
by meri.MKfan
Summary: Slightly different outcome to one key plot point in Star Wars: The Force Awakens.


**The Princess Awakens**

By Meri Lang

Leia tossed in her sleep as the images swirled through her mind's eye, a sense of dread growing with each passing second. The black-clad figure, masked in imitation of his grandfather, stalked the corridors of the planetoid-turned-death star, coming ever closer to Han and Chewie as they worked to destroy the terrible weapon he'd created.

She stiffened, fists clenched, head turning slightly aside as if she could somehow shield herself from what came next. But it came anyway.

There was Han, his mission almost complete, spotting his son and pausing to call out to him, as she had asked, to try to reach the good in him and bring him back to her. And briefly, it seemed it might work. The young man removed the mask – somehow he didn't look quite right, but she knew it was her son – and came to his father, speaking of the conflict within him, the light and the dark. And she wanted to believe that Han could reach him, that the good in him would respond to the good in his father. But in her gut, she knew. She knew. The Dark Side still held her son fast in a web of anger and hate.

Now he was holding out his lightsaber, as if to give it to his father. Speaking words that should have brought her joy, but only increased her dread. Then in an instant the lightsaber flared to life, and the young man's eyes lit up with murderous rage. Leia cried out in horror as she watched her beloved husband cut down, watched him reach out, his final gesture a tender touch. A benediction, forgiveness, apology.

And then he was falling. Away from her. Forever.

"Noooooo!" The word came from deep in her gut, feeding on her despair and grief, rising into her throat, which could not contain the force of it. It burst out as a keening cry, first low, then rising in pitch until she screamed her rejection of this destiny to the very stars.

She was alone now. No husband. No son. No one. Tears flowed freely as she shook her head in protest. The Fates had taken everything from her before she was fully grown - her home, her family, everything she held dear – and now it seemed they had returned to finish the task. To rob her of the two people she loved more than her own life, so that she would have nothing, no one. Only work. Only duty. She heard an anguished moan, knew it was her own, thought that she should stop, but the pain was too strong. Too strong. Her grief was all she had left.

Then suddenly she realized she was not alone. Someone else was there. She felt hands grasp her shoulders, shaking her gently. A low voice was saying words she could barely make out through the din of her own grief. She focused on the sound, trying to understand.

"Leia! Wake up! Leia!" Rough warm fingers cupped her cheek. "Honey, wake up!"

Slowly the world of her grief began to dissolve, and she became aware that she was sitting up in bed. She felt the tears on her face, and the fingers gently wiping them away. She heard the voice, the beloved, familiar voice, repeating the request that she wake up, reassuring her that it was all right, everything was all right.

But how could it be? How could it ever be again?

She took a deep, shaking breath. So many familiar smells. The light floral scent of her sheets. The sweet aroma of the flowers on her dresser, an anniversary gift from Han just the day before. And Han. He was there too. His scent. His touch. His voice.

It couldn't be. He was dead. She was dreaming, and if she opened her eyes, he'd be gone. And yet every other sense was telling her the opposite was true. She had to know.

She took a final deep breath and opened her eyes. Through the tears that still flowed, she saw the earnest, beseeching face of her husband. Gray hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide with worry, relaxing into a smile as they finally met hers.

"Are you okay?" The look of sweet, loving concern was like nourishment to her starving heart. "You were having a nightmare, and I couldn't get you to wake up." And then he was enfolding her in his strong embrace, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair. She could feel him exhale shakily, sighing in relief. His heartbeat was steady and strong, his body warm against her cheek. She slid her arms around him, stroking his back. Somehow, somehow, he was real. He was alive. She pulled back slightly to look up at him. Reached a hand up to let her fingers caress his cheek, comb the unruly gray hair back from his forehead, trace the familiar lips. He covered her hand with his own, pressing his lips to her fingers and palm.

"You're real?" She heard her own voice asking, almost plaintive. "You're not dead?"

The familiar lopsided grin appeared. "Not last time I checked." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You certainly didn't think so last night. But if you need further proof…" He lowered his face and pressed his lips to hers, first gently, then more purposefully. She kissed him back, reveling in the feel of it, of him.

Mission accomplished, he pulled away slightly, the look of concern returning. "You really scared me there for a minute. What were you dreaming?"

She shuddered at the memory. Fully awake now, she realized that it had been a dream. A nightmare. And she realized that the young man she was sure was her son hadn't been her Ben. His hair was too dark, his face all wrong. She knew who it was now: Luke's young apprentice, Braham, who had turned to the Dark Side. Han and Chewie had saved the Republic, helping to destroy the horrible planet weapon, and Braham with it. Ben had wanted to go, but Han insisted he stay and protect his mother.

It had reminded her of that awful day when Darth Vader had tested his carbon freeze on Han. Except instead of the giant Wookie, Han was using his powers of persuasion on their son, who was not that much younger now than Han had been then. Ben looked so much like his father, it sometimes startled her. But in personality he was more like her. More serious, more studious, more stubborn. Well, that he got from his father too. But Han's appeal to his sense of responsibility had worked, and she had been spared the double load of worry.

Part of her, though, had wondered if she should have told Han to let Ben go along. If maybe Han needed him more. She had worried that without Ben's help, this might be one mission too many, even for her resourceful – and lucky – husband. And it almost had been. He had withheld the worst details, but she was a General now, and she read the reports from others who were there. He and Chewie had won the day, but it had been close. Very close. Too close.

She lived with the knowledge that Han's adventure-loving ways would probably make her a widow one day. He was extremely fit for a man his age – he had indeed showed her ample proof the previous evening – but he wasn't a kid anymore, and she knew eventually his reach would exceed his grasp.

It was a price she would pay if she must. But not yet. Not today. Her man – her sweet, scruffy scoundrel – was warm and real and very much alive. And judging by the kiss they'd just shared, more than willing to prove it to her.

She reached out and stroked the beloved face. "It was a terrible dream, but that's all it was. You're here, you're safe, and we're together. All I need right now is a bit more of that proof you promised me." She returned his suggestive look. "Think you're up for that, flyboy?"

That earned her a full-on mischievous grin. "Yes, Your Worshipfulness. If it's proof you need, it's proof you'll get…" And indeed, Han was nothing if not a man of his word.

3


End file.
